


and this is how it starts

by trishapocalypse



Series: what happened to just messin' 'round? [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, but more????, idk - Freeform, kind of, there's like a lot more but w/e, umm thoroughly self-indulgent (again/like normal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I didn’t—I mean, this wasn’t, like, a plan of mine, yeah? I just…wanted to meet you? I didn’t think it would…turn into this,” Harry whispered.</i><br/> <br/><i>“I know. Me neither," Matt admitted.</i></p><p>(Or:  friends with benefits, a LOT of benefits, ends up turning into more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is how it starts

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was going to blame Tari for this (it is still partially her fault) but, alas, I must blame most of it on Kate and her dirty iMessages while I'm at work. (I love them, I do.) I didn't reach my 10K goal but. That doesn't mean there can't be a third part, right? Anyway. I'm very, very sorry for this. I'm going to go hide forever now.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/trishapocalypse) / / [tumblr](http://trishanthemum.tumblr.com)

When Harry woke up the next morning, it was to warm hands pushing him onto his stomach and lips pressing against the back of his neck. His fingers twisted against the sheets as he felt Matt's tongue tracing the knobs of his spine, nose brushing against the curls at the base of his neck,

"Matty—"

"Ssh."

Harry's head dropped as he felt Matt's hands on the back of his thigh, pushing his legs apart. He complied quickly, and he would've wondered if it was a dream but the sharp pinch of Matt's teeth against the juncture where his shoulder met his neck was enough to reassure him that no, this was actually happening. Harry sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Matt's fingertips trace over his hole, not quite pressing. "Matty—"

"I don't have any lube," Matt whispered, fingers deftly toying with his hole, pressure almost enough to cause Harry to whimper.

Harry couldn't place the tone in his voice, wasn't sure if it was disappointment or something else, and he pushed his hips back against Matt's fingers. "S'okay, like it a bit rough," he told him. And he didn't miss Matt's sharp intake of breath as his hand stilled before leaving him completely. Harry didn't pout at the loss of contact—he _didn't_ —and he looked over his shoulder to see why Matt had pulled away and—okay. The sight of Matt's cheeks hollowed around his fingers, his bare chest flushed, his cock hard against his belly was a _sight,_ and it was more than enough for Harry's cock to throb almost painfully from where it was trapped between his stomach and the bed. He wanted to reach back, touch him, or roll over onto his back and drag Matty on top of him, pulling him forward until he could wrap his lips around the head of his cock, wanted to get him off until he was sighing and cursing and utterly spent, but then Matt's hand was pressing between his shoulder blades, holding him down as his fingers brushed against his hole again, and Harry was done thinking.

Without preamble, Matt pressed his spit-slicked fingers against Harry, two sliding into him at once, and Harry's back arched at the intrusion. It had been a while for Harry, not having fingers other than his own for months while he was on tour, nights spent curled in his bunk, desperately searching for the right angle while his hand was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, but it was never enough. Harry's fingers were long, yes, but the angle was never right, and it usually ended with a less than satisfying orgasm that left Harry more frustrated than relieved. But this—Matty— _his_ fingers were perfect and long and calloused, rough against his insides, and there definitely wasn't enough slick to make the feeling pleasant but, fuck, if it wasn't the hottest thing Harry had experienced, he would've been lying. He hissed at the burn, hips pushing back against Matty, already desperate for more.

"Matty," he sighed, thighs falling further apart.

Matt smiled softly at the sight, at the way Harry's body instantly reacted to his touch, and he twisted his wrist, pushing his fingers in deeper until he was nudging against Harry's prostate.

Harry's back arched and he gasped, his fingers twisting tighter against the sheets. "Matty—more—"

Matt nodded, even though Harry couldn't see it, and he slowly pushed in a third finger. He felt Harry clench around him and he palmed himself just a little to relieve some of the pressure building up, because it wasn't about him. The night before was, just a little, but his desire to see Harry really and truly wrecked was all he could think about. Part of him wanted to roll Harry over, actually see his face as he came, wanted to know if he would whimper again, eyes screwed shut and his pretty little mouth hanging open, but he also liked Harry pushed against the mattress and unable to move, completely under Matt's control, so. (Matt figured he would have time to see both, didn't think Harry would actually say no to keeping this up, this whole casual sex thing, but he made a mental note to talk to him about it—after, of course.)

"Matty," Harry moaned, his voice rising just a little bit, hips pushing back against him. He tried to reach down to wrap his fingers around himself, feeling his orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach, but Matt reached around him and grabbed his wrist, dragging it to the small of his back and holding it there tightly.

"No, you'll come just from this, yeah?" Matt told him, hand right around Harry's wrist as he fucked his fingers faster into him, nudging against the little bundle of nerves with every other thrust.

Harry whimpered again but nodded. "Harder," he whispered, feeling his cheeks flush even more, and he wasn't even sure if he had said it loud enough for Matty to hear, but he must've because he quickened his pace until he was hitting his prostate with each thrust. Harry moaned, back dipping almost painfully as he tried to push his hips back even further. He felt Matty's hot breath against the small of his back, felt the barest hint of his tongue ghosting over his hole, and he came instantly, spilling against the sheets with a pathetically choked off whimper of Matt's name. He fell pliant against the mattress, his breathing heavy and uneven, and he felt Matt grab his hips and drag him up until he was on his knees with his chest pressed firmly down. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit back a moan as he felt Matty's tongue trace around his hole, his fingers still moving slowly inside of him. He wanted to push him away, say it was too much, but he couldn't, and he isn't really _want_ to anyway.

And then Matt pulled away completely, leaving Harry cold and confused for the briefest moments until he felt the warm slide of his hard cock between his thighs. He could feel the beads of precome against his hole and he whimpered. He glanced over his shoulder to see Matt jerking himself off quickly, the head of his cock pushing against his opening. And, fuck, he wanted it— _he did—_ his hips instantly pushing back. He wanted to feel Matt slide into him, hot and bare, fucking him slowly into the mattress until it brought tears to Harry's eyes, until he was sobbing and begging for release. He watched, though, watched the way the tendons in Matt's forearms flexed as he got himself off, the way his eyes were scrunched shut tightly, his mouth hanging open as he came over the back of Harry's thighs, his lower back, across his hole.

Harry smiled softly, head falling back against the mattress because, fuck, that was the best way to wake up _ever._

"What are you doing today?" Matt asked quietly, his voice a little rough and his accent thicker.

Harry wanted to say nothing, wanted to say that they could stay in bed all day and just do exactly what they had been doing, but he couldn't. "Got an interview and—" he cut himself off with a moan when he felt Matt's fingers sliding against his opening, feeling the way he was pushing his spunk inside of Harry's hole and _fuck, fuck, fuck—_

"And?" Matt prompted.

Harry didn't respond for a moment, feeling Matt's fingers dipping into him again was too much and perfect and not enough at the same time. He felt his cock stir in interest again as Matt slid the pad of his thumb across his hole.

"M'waiting," Matt whispered patiently.

"Got a performance tonight, too," Harry added, his voice hitching.

Matt nodded and pulled away, rolling Harry over and onto his back. He surveyed him quickly, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, little indents from his teeth where he had been biting down. And Harry was gorgeous, ridiculously slow, and Matt was always one for casual sex, yes, but he didn't do repeats, but that didn't stop him from wanting Harry again. "We should do this again," he found himself saying. And even though he had a feeling that Harry wouldn't protest, his heart was still racing in his chest.

Harry nodded, his smile wide as his curls bounced against the pillow. He reached up to push his hair out of his face and he laughed softly. "Yeah, definitely," he agreed.

Matt felt himself smirk softly and he leaned down to press a quick kiss against Harry's lips. "Do something for me?"

"Anything," he agreed automatically.

Matt's eyebrows rose but he ignored it—that was a conversation to be explored at another time. "When you shower later," he started, reaching down to rub his fingers across Harry's hole, "think of me, yeah? And don't clean down here."

Harry's nose scrunched up. "But—"

"And come to me after your performance," he added. "And if you're a good boy and do what I say, if I can still feel myself inside of you tonight—" he didn't miss Harry's sharp intake of breath and he smiled, "—then you'll get a reward."

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

 

+

 

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked over at Louis with wide, doe eyes. “Sorry?”

Louis narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Harry. “You’re acting weird,” he said quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Actin’ like myself.”

“Yeah? How was last night with Matty?” he asked.

“Fine,” Harry told him with another shrug. 

“You were almost late when the car picked you up.”

“Yeah, um,” he sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Got back this morning and had to shower and lost track of time, I guess.”

Louis hmm’d thoughtfully and nodded. “You stayed at his?”

“Yeah.”

His frown turned into a grin and Louis laughed, slapping Harry on the arse. “Ya got some, didn’t ya? Fucking finally. You’re a proper groupie now,” he told him.

Harry felt himself flush and he bit his lip to hold back a moan because, wow, okay, it wasn’t like Louis did it on _purpose._ Or, well, okay, he did, but how was he to know that Harry cheated, just a little bit, just _maybe_ by filling himself up with a small butt plug before he left? Matty had mentioned a reward and fuck if Harry was going to bollocks it all up over nothing. And, well, it wasn’t like Matty had laid out any _rules,_ per se, so Harry was probably fine but—yeah, it wasn’t like Louis knew the little slap would nudge the little toy _just right,_ pressing against Harry’s prostate just enough. 

“Y’alright?”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile, forcing himself to act completely naturally. “Almost time to go, innit?”

“Yeah, we’re going out for drinks. Niall’s paying.”

“Think I might pass this time, Lou—“

“What? Absolutely not!”

“I’m knackered. I just—“

“Just nothing,” Louis interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You’re goin’ with us.”

And that was how Harry found himself in the middle of a crowded pub at nearly eleven, surrounded by fans wanting pictures and autographs, and all Harry wanted was peace and quiet and Matty—and not necessarily in that order. His mobile was silent in his pocket, and Harry almost wished Matty would call him or message him so he would have an excuse to leave early. 

But it wasn’t until half midnight that he was finally able to sneak out, away from Niall who had been plying him with drinks all night, and into a nondescript black car that would take him to Matty’s flat. Harry’s head was spinning, just a little bit, from the drink and from anticipation. He shifted on the leather of the seat, groaning when the plug rubbed against his prostate again, and he cock twitched in his jeans. He reached down and pressed the palm of his hand flat against himself, though it didn’t help at all, and he reached up to unbutton the first couple buttons of his crisp white shirt. By the time he was done, the car was stopped, and Harry was stumbling out the door and up the stairs to Matt’s flat, pounding on the door as loudly as he could, vaguely aware of the fact that he was being obnoxious but not caring. The door flew open and Harry nearly fell in, wrapping his arms around Matt’s bare shoulders.

“What are you—“ Matt shook his head and kicked the door shut, reaching behind himself to lock it. “How drunk are you?”

“M’not,” Harry insisted, shaking his head, pressing his lips against Matt’s jawline. “I did it, yeah? I did it—Wanted to make you proud—“

Matt pulled away, taking in Harry’s bright green eyes, pupils barely dilated, his bottom lip bitten and red. 

“Matty—“

“Take your shirt off; you look ridiculous,” he told him.

Harry nodded and shrugged his blazer off, letting it fall to the floor, before he finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside. The cold air of Matt’s flat surprised him, even though he expected it because Matt always kept the window open when he was smoking, but he didn’t expect to feel Matt’s calloused fingertips brushing across his nipples. “Matty—“

Matt shook his head and grabbed Harry’s belt loops, tugging him closer until their bare chests were pressed together. He didn’t break eye contact with Harry while he undid his belt and jeans, pushing them over top of his thighs. Harry’s eyes slipped shit when Matt’s fingers brushed underneath the elastic of his pants, fingertips cold against his warm skin, and Harry pushed his hips forward, desperate for some contact. “Already hard for me, love?” Matt asked softly, a smile on his face.

Harry nodded, cheeks flushing. “Have been all day. Matty, please—“

Matt leaned in, pressing their lips together, Harry melting into him instantly, their tongues meeting without preamble. Harry moaned, hands finding their way into Matt’s hair, scratching at his scalp and tangling with the long strands. Matt slid his hands around to Harry’s arse, feeling the younger boy shift against him, nipping at his lips. Matt pressed the pad of his thumb against Harry’s crack and Harry groaned, pulling away, his head falling to Matt’s shoulder as he pressed his lips to the side of his neck. He was positive he could feel Harry’s heart racing as he slipped one finger between his cheeks, brushing across his hole and—

Oh.

_Oh._

That was… Well. Matt licked his lips, fingertips pushing against the plug, pressing it in a little deeper. He felt Harry gasp against the side of his neck, and he grinned, taking a step back. “Harry?”

“Matty, I—“

“How long have you been wearing this?” he asked softly. 

“Since I left mine,” Harry told him. “Wanted to—“

“All day?” Matt asked, his voice low.

Harry nodded, pulling away to look up at him. “Are you—Are you upset with me?” he asked quietly.

Matt shook his head. “I’m—surprised, actually,” he told him, licking his lips before meeting Harry’s eyes. “All day?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed with another nod. “Thought I was gonna faint during the performance, though,” he added with a shy grin. “Wouldn’t have been appropriate, yeah? Children in Need and all that.”

Matt cursed under his breath, fingertips brushing across the base of the plug again, causing Harry to jerk against him. “Wore that during a benefit concert? You little slag,” he whispered fondly, pressing his lips against Harry’s briefly. “Turn around.”

Harry did so without a second thought, bracing his hands against the door to Matt’s flat. He sighed when he felt Matt tug his pants over the swell of his arse, pushing them down his thighs along with his jeans. Matt’s fingers brushed over his hole, barely touching the plug, and Harry whimpered. He felt Matt’s breath on the back of his thighs, the tip of his tongue tracing over his hole, fingers tugging at the plug and pulling it out slowly. His forehead dropped towards the door, fingers scrambling for purchase, though there was nothing to hold onto. 

“Christ, Harry,” Matt muttered, pulling the plug out entirely before dropping it to the floor. He ran his tongue over Harry’s opening, dipping into him slowly, and he felt Harry shudder. He hesitated for a moment, sucking in a deep breath, sliding a hand up towards the small of Harry’s back and just resting it there. “Didn’t think you could actually do it.”

Harry forced out a laugh that sounded almost like a sob; he would’ve looked back towards Matt, but he could hardly move, didn’t even want to, really. “Told you I had moves, Matty,” he told him softly.

Matt smiled to himself, leaning back in and tracing the curve of Harry’s arse with his tongue, licking into him slowly and causing Harry’s hips to stutter, his breathing uneven. And he took his time, licking around his opening, tasting himself from earlier, and— _fuck._ Harry did it, actually did it, even went out of his way to use a plug to ensure that he would keep a part of Matt inside of him throughout the day, and— It was ridiculous, absolutely crazy, and beyond fucking sexy, and Matt was in awe. He was in awe of Harry; in awe of the boy that he was sure was the most innocent lad he had ever met but—no, he _wasn’t._ Matt was pretty sure innocent lads didn’t sit through an interview and perform for a charity while wearing a butt plug to hold someone’s spunk inside of them—pretty sure so, no, Harry was…something else. 

“Matty—“ Harry whimpered, choking back a sob when he felt the tip of his tongue lapping against him. “I—“

Matt pulled back, pressing his thumb against Harry’s hole and just holding it there. “I think you’re ready for your reward now.”

 

+

 

_your album leaked?_

Harry fiddled with his mobile for a minute after reading Matt’s message and, yeah, their new album had _leaked_ and Louis and Liam were beyond furious, Niall was still his carefree self, and Zayn didn’t have an opinion on the matter. And truthfully, it wasn’t really a big deal, not to Harry—he knew people were still going to buy the album and all. But they did work hard, really hard on it, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Matt’s text meant he had listened to it or what. And, really, he was nervous because Matt, beyond being the most important person in Harry’s sex life, was also a musician that he looked up to. He wanted to…impress him or something, he wasn’t sure, but. 

**yeah ): did you listen to it?? xx**

“Who are you texting? Obviously it’s no one important because I’m right in front of you,” Louis joked, throwing a piece of popcorn into Harry’s curls.

Harry shook his head, a piece of popcorn falling out, and he tossed it over at Niall, who caught it in his mouth—unsurprisingly. “Matty. About the album leak.”

Louis’ eyes darkened and he frowned. “Don’t remind me. Those twats at—“

“Let it go, Tommo,” Niall interrupted. “If I have t’ hear another rant from you about this, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“It’s a big deal, Nialler, it’s—“

“We know, Lou,” Harry said softly. 

Louis pouted. “We worked really hard, Harry—“

“I know,” Harry agreed. “But it was taken down, yeah? People will still buy it, okay?”

“That’s not the point. It’s not about the _sales,_ I’m not Liam, I don’t care about the sales,” Louis told him. “It’s about the principle of the matter.”

“Vevo released Story of my Life early, iTunes released the album early, who cares?” Niall said with a shrug. “No point getting upset. Can’t change what happened, yeah?”

Harry jerked as his mobile vibrated against his palm and he looked down at the message, effectively zoning out Louis’ pouting and Niall being The Voice of Reason (for once). 

_nah, think i’ll wait for the official release. did see an interesting review though._

**really?? was it good?? xx**

“Matty said there are already a bunch of reviews for it,” Harry muttered.

Louis turned to face Harry, still frowning. “I don’t need to hear what your little boyfriend thinks of our album, alright? Probably some pretentious—“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry interjected. “And he isn’t pretentious.”

“Who’s not your pretentious boyfriend?” Niall asked, confused.

“Matty,” Louis told him. “The 1975.”

Niall grinned. “Brilliant. You’ve only been gagging for it for months.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Wh-What? I have _not_ been gagging for it!” he protested.

Niall nodded slowly. “Alright, Haz, whatever ya say,” he told him.

“I _haven’t,_ ” Harry insisted. “Louis, tell him I haven’t—“

“And _lie_ to him, my dear Harold? Absolutely not. I’m many things, but I am not a liar,” Louis said with a grin. “Besides, you have been.”

Harry pouted as his mobile vibrated again and he glanced down, throat going dry and—

_”it’s like Mumford and Sons and The 1975 shoved their dick up One Direction.” which is funny since my dick hasn’t been in you. yet._

Harry cleared his throat, reading the message a total of ten times before thinking of replying.

**yet?**

_we both know that’s where this is headed. am I wrong?_

**not exactly.**

_don’t sound so eager, mate. m’not gonna force you or summat._

**you wouldn’t be. just…you’re being mean.**

_mean? how so?_

**you’re being a tease.**

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest as he sent his last message, because he wasn’t a flirt, he wasn’t… He wasn’t the type of person to… But then Matty was… He just didn’t _know._ His heart was racing because, even though he had gotten close to Matt, he was still nervous because he wasn’t sure where it was going to go. Obviously, well, sex, and Harry was okay with that, he _was,_ because it was Matty, after all. 

“Harry, can you pretend like you’re paying attention for once?” Louis asked.

Harry shook his head and looked up. “Sorry?”

“We’re talking about lunch,” Niall said. “Pizza or Chinese?”

“We always have pizza, mind,” Louis pointed out. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t mind. M’not that hungry.”

Louis frowned. “Gimme your mobile,” he said.

“No,” Harry said, receiving another message. 

But before he could read it, Louis snatched his mobile out of his hand, jumping off the couch and hiding behind Niall. “Save me, Niall!”

Niall shrugged. “Save y’self, Lou, m’ordering pizza _and_ Chinese for lunch,” he muttered.

Louis laughed as Harry pouted at him from the couch, unlocking his phone and—

“Well?”

Louis swallowed, cheeks flushing, and he tossed Harry’s mobile back towards him. “You need a better password.”

“What?”

“I could’ve gone the rest of my life without reading— _that_ ,” he told him.

Niall glanced over his shoulder at Louis and burst out laughing. “That’s what ya get for takin’ his mobile ‘way from ‘im,” he told him.

Louis frowned. “I am _scarred_ for life, Niall, and you mock my pain? Some mate you are,” he grumbled.

Harry quickly unlocked his phone to rest the message from Matt and—oh, yeah, that was why Louis was blushing and looking all put out.

_you weren’t calling me a tease last weekend when I had three fingers in your arse and your cock down my throat._

“I did not need to know what you do in your spare time, Harry,” Louis told him.

“Then you shouldn’t have taken my mobile,” Harry said quietly. “You got what you deserved.”

**no, I was calling you other things. ;)**

Harry cursed himself mentally because, really? A winking face emoji? Did he _have_ to send that? Whatever—he really had to stop overthinking every single message he sent Matty. It probably wasn’t healthy. 

_i’m back in two weeks. will a busy pop star like yourself have time for me?_

**I could be persuaded. xx**

_could you? name it._

**do you miss me? xx**

_i miss your arse, how tight you are around my fingers and my tongue. good enough?_

Harry cleared his throat and stood up from the couch, adjusting himself not-so-subtly in his jeans (hell, he and the lads had next to no boundaries, whatever). “Anyone want a drink?”

“Gimme a beer, yeah?” Niall asked.

“I’m good,” Louis said, looking down at his tea.

“Are you gonna be moping all day?” Niall asked Lou, tossing some popcorn at him. “C’mon, s’not the first dirty message any of us have gotten or read.”

Harry didn’t wait to hear Louis’ response before he was ducking into the kitchen of Niall’s flat, rooting through the refrigerator to grab two beers. 

**but do you miss me?**

He was almost positive he was going to have a heart attack or something waiting for Matt’s response. Part of him knew it was too far, too much; they were mates—barely. They were mates who fucked around, quite a bit, quite extensively, but. Harry missed Matt, and not just _parts_ of him, but his somewhat-surly personality and penchant for silence and ignoring Harry to fuck around with his guitar. Harry _liked_ being around him and…he was fucked.

_yes._

Harry grinned down at his mobile. That was—that was nice.

**then I can clear my schedule for you. (: xx**

 

+

 

_”You’re a little shit.”_

Harry laughed softly as he answered his mobile, muttering to Liam that he would be right back before he slipped out of the dressing room and into the quiet hallway. He pressed his mobile closer to his ear, thumbing up the volume on the side, before giving Matt all of his attention. “Am I? How so?”

_”You know what you did, Styles.”_

“Do I, Healy?” Harry asked, teasing. He heard a door slam on the other line of the phone and Matt muttering something under his breath, hesitating a few moments before he finally spoke again.

_”It was silly of me to see an audio file and think you would send me actual songs. I feel like I should’ve known that only you would send me an audio file of you getting off.”_

Harry flushed, looking around the hall to make sure he was alone—he was—before clearing his throat. “Was that—I mean, is that okay? That I—That I did that?”

Matt laughed on the other end of the line, low and throaty and sounding completely unlike himself. _”Maybe not ten minutes before I’m due onstage. S’your fault I don’t have enough time to wank.”_

“You were really going to?” he asked quietly.

_”’Bout came when you said my name all breathy—fuck, Harry.”_

Harry’s blush only intensified as Matt spoke, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. He glanced around again before he made his way down the hall and towards the door at the back of the venue, nodding at one of the security guards. He stepped out, the guard following him but staying away by quite a few feet, and Harry ducked against the side of the building. It was quiet outside, save for a few of the crew kicking around a football to kill time, and Harry wished he had brought his sunglasses. “Tell me,” he said softly.

_”Tell you what?”_

“Just… Anything,” Harry told him with a shrug. “Like—Is that—Is that okay with you? I didn’t, like. I didn’t want you to think that I was…trying too hard? Or something?”

 _”It’s—“_ Matt cleared his throat. _”It’s okay with me. Just give me fair warning next time,”_ he added with a quiet laugh.

Harry grinned. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

_”Just a feeling.”_

“You’re probably right,” he muttered. “Maybe just pictures though, yeah?”

 _”You are, without a doubt, the dirtiest fuck I’ve ever had. And I haven’t even fucked you yet,”_ Matt said quietly, a tone in his voice that Harry couldn’t place, though he was pretty sure it fell into the realm of _fond_ and _amazed_ and _impressed_ (but that was probably taking it too far). 

“I’ll fly you to the States if you have a couple days off,” Harry offered. “I—I don’t mind. Just, do you have time?”

_”Two weeks, love, then we’ll both be back in London._

Harry pouted, though Matt couldn’t see it. “That’s a long time,” he muttered.

 _”I’ll make it worth your while,”_ he promised before trailing off.

“Do you have to go?” Harry asked.

_”Yeah.”_

“Oh. Um. I’ll—We can talk tomorrow?”

_”How many?”_

Harry paused. “How many what?”

_”Fingers. How many did you use?”_

Harry shivered because—it was back, _that_ tone Matty used, the one that was all quiet and breathy, the one that made Harry weak in his knees. “Um, I—I didn’t. I tried, but—it wasn’t the same,” he whispered. 

Matt cursed. _”So you—“_

“I bought—Well, I had someone get it for me. I can’t really…walk into a sex shop and buy a vibrator on my own, yeah?” Harry said quietly with a short laugh. 

Matt sighed. _”You—Christ, Harry, you’re gon’ be the death of me.”_

Harry bit his bottom lip, trying to hide a smile and failing. “Thanks?”

 _”M’not even sure if that’s a compliment yet,”_ Matt mused. _”I gotta go.”_

“Alright.”

_”I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”_

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Good luck tonight.”

 _”Same to you, love.”_

 

+

 

Ten days and countless (thirty-seven) dirty pictures later, Harry was back in London and waiting for Matt. He was set to arrive that night, and Harry had taken it upon himself to obtain a spare key and sneak into Matt's flat. (Well, it wasn't really sneaking since Matt was the one to send him the key but—whatever.) So that was how Harry found himself alone in Matt's flat, naked and under the covers because he was still exhausted and jet lagged and, well, why wear clothes anyway?

And Harry didn't keep track of time, he kept drifting in and out of sleep, so he didn't hear when Matt got back. He only knew because even in his sleepy daze, he felt the mattress shift and cold hands tracing his shoulders, tugging the blanket down slowly. Harry nuzzled into the touch, rolling over onto his back, Matt's hand slipping down his chest, over his swallow tattoo and down to his nipple, catching the tight little bud between his fingers. Harry sighed happily, eyes slowly drifting open, and he caught Matt's eyes just before he leaned down to take Harry's nipple into his mouth. 

Harry's hand instantly found Matt's hair, tightening in the strands as his back arched off the bed, a quiet little gasp escaping his lips. Harry was pretty sure he'd spent every minute of the past ten days half-hard, mainly from anticipation and a lot of wanking, so the fact that his cock was already stirring in interest at the way Matt's tongue swirled around his nipple, his teeth pulling while his fingers traced his lower stomach, wasn't even a surprise. "Matty," he sighed, licking his lips, eyes drifting shut again.

"Half-expected you to be doing something ridiculous like fucking yourself on that vibrator you bought," Matt mused quietly, voice vibrating against Harry's chest.

Harry whimpered as Matt kissed across his chest, making his way to his other nipple, teeth catching it sharply. "I was going to," Harry admitted softly, "but I was too tired. Fell asleep instead."

Matt laughed, a fond smile on his lips as he pulled away. "You're so sexy," he whispered, that tone in his voice that Harry was now sure mirrored amazement or something—it had to, wouldn't make sense otherwise.

"You, too," Harry told him, fingers still tight in Matt's hair. "Get your kit off, lemme wank you."

Matt smiled and pulled away, dragging his oversized Nirvana sweater over his head. He stood long enough to shimmy out of his tight jeans and pants before Harry was reaching for his thighs, pulling him back onto the bed. "I'm gonna come all over this ridiculous tattoo," he told him, fingertips finding the edge of Harry's butterfly-moth-hybrid- _thing_ and tracing the outline. He felt more than saw Harry's flush, the way his heart was hammering in his chest, and he looked up to see Harry nodding vigorously, his curls falling from his stupid little quiff to fall flat against his forehead.

"Yeah, please," he whispered.

"Well, since you said please," Matt muttered, adjusting so he was straddling Harry's lower stomach. He picked up Harry's hand and licked his palm, tongue sliding between his fingers, and he never once broke eye contact. He guided Harry's hand lower until his long fingers were wrapping tightly around him; Matt sighed in relief at the touch, at someone other than himself _finally_ touching him, finally getting him off. And if Harry wasn't so tired and jet lagged, and if Matt himself wasn't so tired and jet lagged, he probably would've flipped Harry over, slotting himself between his thighs and rubbed off against his tight little arse, but he definitely didn't have the energy so—this would do. (Besides, coming all over Harry's stupid tattoo was going to fulfill a fantasy he had entertained since, well, he learned about the bloody thing, so it was a win either way.)

Harry gripped him tightly, jerking him off quickly. He didn't have the energy to tease to draw it out, didn't even want to, so he twisted his wrist on the upstroke, thumb massaging the leaking tip. Matt's fingers dug into his sides, his hips pushing forward just a bit as he hung his head; his lips were parted and full, little gasps escaping him as Harry's thumbnail grazed his sensitive slit and he came with a quiet cry all over Harry's tattoo.

Matt collapsed on the mattress next to Harry, feeling the younger boy running his fingers though his hair. He paused to catch his breath before reaching down for Harry's cock, but Harry pushed him away. He went to ask why, he did, but he was distracted by the sight of Harry's long fingers dipping into the spunk across his tattoo, spreading it around slowly and whimpering softly, lifting his hand to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. "Christ, Haz, stop that. M'not ready to go again," he told him with a quiet laugh.

Harry grinned, leaning in to press his lips against Matt's. He jerked away when he felt Matt's hand close around his cock, and he reached down to pry his fingers off, grabbing Matt's wrist and fitting his arm over his waist.

"Let me—"

"Sleep first?" Harry suggested quietly.

"But you're—"

"Been hard for weeks, honestly," Harry said with a shrug, snuggling into Matt's side. "Make me come twice when we wake up, yeah? Even if I say I can't?"

Matt's heart was pounding in his chest and he nodded, feeling Harry curl up against him. "Yeah. I can do that."

Harry grinned and kissed the side of Matt's neck, nipping the skin softly. "Good. Are you gonna fuck me?"

"If you want me to."

He nodded. "I do."

"Then yeah," Matt decided with a nod. "I'll fuck you, make you come twice, whatever you want."

"Would you..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Matt carded his fingers through Harry's curls, tugging softly. "Tell me," he whispered.

"Like... I've been thinking that I might like it if you tie me up?"

Matt was pretty sure his heart stopped in his chest or something at those words because, wow, okay, he could be into that. "Not tomorrow, but next time," he promised.

Harry grinned and looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, whatever you want, Haz."

 

+

 

When Matt woke up hours later—he wasn't even sure if it was morning—it wasn't to the feeling of curls against his neck or lips around his cock, it was to the smell of bacon and the sound of humming. He blinked his eyes open slowly, rubbing at them with the back of his hand, and he climbed out of bed. He spotted Harry before anything else, standing at the stove and crying bacon, wearing Matt's own Nirvana sweater that barely covered the obscene curve of his arse. Matt's cock stirred in interest as he watched Harry shake his hips to the tune of whatever he was humming, and he walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Morning," Harry mumbled with a sleepy soft smile. "Or, well, evening—it's half-four."

Matt nodded, tucking his head into the side of Harry's neck. "Hungry?"

Harry shrugged. "A little."

Matt slipped his hands under the sweater, resting his palms against Harry's abdomen. He felt he sharp intake of breath and he grinned against Harry's skin. "Let's go back to bed," he suggested.

"But the bacon—"

"Do we have more?"

"Yeah, but—"

Matt cut Harry off by reaching around him and flicking the stove off, shoving the pan onto a different burner. "Bed," he repeated. "I seem to remember a conversation last night about making you come twice," he told him, slipping the sweater up again to rub his bare cock against Harry's arse.

Harry flushed and pushed his hips back. "Yeah?"

Matt pulled at the hem of the sweater and tugged it over Harry's head, tossing it towards the bed before leading the younger boy over to the mattress. "Still up for that?"

Harry nodded his head eagerly, allowing Matt to push him onto the mattress and climb on top of him. "Yeah, definitely." Harry reached up and locked his fingers behind Matt’s neck, tugging him down and pressing their lips together.

Matt gave in for a few moments, letting Harry kiss him in a way that was just _distinctly Harry,_ slow and unhurried and languid and whatever other adjective Matt could think of. He pulled away slowly, nipping at Harry’s lower lip, before he sat up. “Hang on.” He climbed off of the bed, patting Harry’s thigh and ignoring the little pout on his lips, and he made his way over towards his bags. He had literally kicked them aside when he got home the night before, deciding he would unpack when he didn’t have a gorgeous and naked lad in his bed; once he located his satchel, he knelt down and started digging through the main pocket. He vaguely heard Harry laughing behind him, but he didn’t care; his fingers closed around the bottle of lube and he pulled it out with a victorious smile. He turned to face Harry with a grin before making his way back over towards the mattress. “Still laughing?”

Harry’s smile widened as Matt dropped the bottle of lube onto the mattress, almost instantly losing it in the mess of blankets and pillows. “No, m’not laughing at you,” he promised. 

“Good.” Matt crawled between Harry’s legs, hands sliding up his thighs and pushing his legs further apart, before settling down and fitting their lips together again. Harry sighed happily against him, fingers finding Matt’s hair, tugging at the strands in a way that made Matt’s scalp ache in the best way. Harry’s body arched up against him, rubbing their cocks together, and Matt reached for Harry’s waist, fingers digging in tightly. Harry held him close, their tongues twisting together as Matt’s thumb rubbed soft circles against Harry’s pale skin, against the juncture of his thigh. 

“Matty,” Harry sighed against his lips, shifting underneath him, trying to get a little bit of friction against his cock. 

Matt smiled against Harry’s mouth briefly before sucking his lower lip into his mouth, tugging until Harry whimpered. He smoothed the bite over with his tongue, slipping a hand down until he could wrap his fingers around Harry’s cock. Harry jerked against him, panting against the side of Matt’s neck, sucking a bruise into the skin of his collarbone, tongue tracing the ink splattered across his chest. Matt jerked him off slowly, thumbing the slit, until Harry was a moaning mess underneath him, hips arching off the bed, lips parted obscenely. 

Matt pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead before pushing him back softly against the mattress, kissing his way down the column of Harry’s throat and down the center of his chest, biting and nipping at the outline of his stupid butterfly (moth, _whatever_ ). Harry reached for his hair again, trying to push him down, but not really _trying._ Matt smiled up at him, nosing past where Harry’s cock was hard and leaking against his abdomen, mouthing his way down to the inside of his thigh. He sucked a bruise into the apex of Harry’s thigh, tongue darting down to brush across his hole in a way that had Harry keening and arching up against him. 

“Matty—Matty, please,” Harry panted, pushing at Matt’s shoulders.

“Please what?” Matt asked, lips brushing across the base of Harry’s cock. 

Harry whined, planting his feet on the bed and arching his hips up again. “Please—Just— _Please_.”

Matt slid his tongue across Harry’s opening slowly, barely dipping into him, and he felt Harry’s fingers dig into his shoulders. He pulled away and reached for the bottle of lube, uncapping it and coating a couple of fingers quickly, pressing them against Harry’s hole. 

“Yes, yes, yes, please, Matty, please—“ Harry’s rambling was cut off as Matt pressed two fingers inside of him without pretense, a breathy gasp escaping his lips. 

“Yeah?” Matt asked, smiling to himself when Harry started nodding, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Matt leaned back in, wrapping his lips around the head of Harry’s cock, swallowing him in one go. 

Harry moaned loudly, breathing uneven as Matt pressed his fingers in deeper, nudging the little bundle of nerves. It was so much, it was _too much,_ but it was so, so good. Harry whimpered as Matt’s tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his cock, tonguing the slit, scissoring his fingers, and he was already close. Hell, he’d been on edge since Matt joined him in bed the night before, coming all over his chest, but this—this was more. 

Matt crooked his fingers inside of him, curling against his prostate, and he hollowed his cheeks, swallowing around him, humming until he felt Harry’s thighs trembling on either side of him. He glanced up at Harry in time to see him sit up, resting his weight on one elbow, reaching up. Harry ran his fingertips over the side of Matt’s face, over his cheek where he could almost feel himself, before sliding his hand back into Matt’s hair.

“Matty, m’gonna—“

Matt’s eyes drifted shut as he swallowed around Harry again, the younger boy releasing with a loud moan, collapsing back against the mattress. Matt pulled away slowly, licking his lips, fingers still buried deep inside of Harry. He kissed his way up Harry’s body, pressing their lips together, tongues meeting instantly as Harry moaned into his mouth. Matt slid his tongue along Harry’s lips, pulling back with a grin. 

Harry fell back against the pillow, struggling to catch his breath, whimpering when he felt Matt nudge against his prostate again. “Matty—“

“I made you a promise,” Matt told him, his voice rough and gravelly. 

Harry pouted, eyes slipping shut. “I can’t—“

“You can,” he interrupted.

“Matty—“

Matt cut him off with a quick kiss. “Be an angel and get me a condom, yeah? Top drawer,” he said, nodding towards his nighstand.

Harry shook his head. “No, wanna feel you,” he told him.

Matt pulled back with a frown. “Harry—“

“I haven’t been with anyone else, not since…not since this,” Harry whispered, ignoring the way he knew his cheeks were flushing. “I—Have you?”

Matt shook his head slowly. “No, I—I haven’t,” he told him, and the way Harry’s smile spread across his face made his stomach twist in a weirdly intimate way. He wasn’t—he wasn’t used to that, at all. “You’re sure?”

Harry nodded, wrapping his legs around the back of Matt’s thighs. “Yeah, unless—unless _you_ don’t want to? Which is—“

“I want to,” Matt murmured. He allowed Harry to pull him back down for another kiss and he slowly withdrew his hand, blindly reaching for the lube to coat himself. Harry’s tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth and Matt tossed the lube aside, vaguely hearing it land on the hardwood floor somewhere, but he didn’t care. “Yeah?” he asked again, pulling away long enough to see Harry nod before he was pulled in for another slow kiss. 

Matt pushed in slowly, not missing Harry’s sharp intake of breath or the way Harry pulled him closer, and biting at his lip until Matt was completely inside of him. Harry dug his nails into Matt’s back, wiggling his hips a little bit and pushing back against Matt. 

“Matty—C’mon—“

“Demanding lil thing, aren’t ya?” he asked with a quiet laugh.

Harry grinned. “You love it.”

Matty ducked down to press his lips against Harry’s neck, marking him in the most obvious spot possible, pumping into him slowly. Harry whimpered, reaching down between their bodies to wrap his fingers around himself, unsurprised to find himself hard again. It wasn’t going to take much; Matt knew that, with how tight Harry was, with how brilliant it felt to actually be inside of him. 

“Matty—Fuck, harder, yeah?”

Matt sped up, just a little, leaning up to grab at Harry’s thighs. He pulled him off the mattress, switching the angle, fucking him harder and hitting his prostate with each thrust. Harry moaned, shoulders pressing into the mattress as he arched his hips, fingers reaching for the pillow to hold onto _something._

“Oh _god._ ”

A few strands of hair fell into Matt’s face and he reached up, pushing them away from his sweaty forehead, before returning to Harry’s hips. He was sure he was bruising him, bruising the pale skin of his hips the same way he had bruised his neck and collarbone, and there was something about that action that caused Matt’s stomach to twist. Harry moaned again, jerking himself off faster, and Matt could tell by the uneven movements and the curses leaving his lips that he was close, and he fucked him just a little bit harder.

Harry’s mouth parted in a silent gasp as he came, coating his stomach and his fist, collapsing against the mattress once more with a breathless sigh. Matt’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he came just at the sight, his orgasm hitting him like a wave, and he barely registered Harry’s arms gathering around his shoulders and pulling him down into a weak and messy kiss. Matt pulled away to lay against Harry’s chest, catching his breath for a moment, Harry’s fingers tangling in his hair again, figuring Harry liked his hair for a reason, whatever it might’ve been, it didn’t really matter. 

“Fuck.”

Matt laughed softly, nosing at the side of Harry’s neck, nipping at the skin until Harry tugged on his hair again.

“M’too sensitive,” he said, a hint of a whine to his voice.

Matt looked up at him, pressing his lips to the underside of his jaw. “Sorry, love.”

Harry flushed. “That was…” he trailed off, eyes trained on the ceiling as he thought for a moment, “brilliant.”

“Yeah.”

Harry reached for the edge of one of the blankets, wiping at his stomach, trying to clean off his spunk. He didn’t really care, but he should, even though a shower was definitely calling his name. His eyes landed back on Matt, who was lying on his back, a soft look on his face. “So… We?”

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and he glanced up at Harry. “What are you talking about?”

Harry felt himself flush. “The bacon. Earlier? You asked if… _we_ had more.”

Matt hesitated, swallowing, because—yeah, he had said that. And, really? Of course Harry would remember that, would bring it up, of course.

Harry rolled over onto his side, curling around the length of Matt’s body, needing to be close to him. “We?” And it wasn’t even about what it meant, not exactly, it was about knowing that it was there—it didn’t _have_ to be defined.

“Slip of the tongue,” Matt insisted weakly, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Hand me a fag?”

“Not until you admit there’s a we,” Harry teased, fingers tickling the edge of Matt’s ribs.

Matt laughed, ruffling Harry’s curls. “Alright,” he said simply, heart thundering in his chest. And maybe it was about what it meant, just a little, because he and Harry—it wasn’t supposed to go beyond mates, mates who fuck around, who get off, it wasn’t _supposed_ to. But, well, it did, and neither of them could really deny it.

“Alright?” Harry asked, reaching over the edge of the mattress to find Matt’s jeans, digging his pack of fags and a lighter out of the pocket.

Matt reached behind Harry, easily snagging the items from his hand, and he lit up, taking a slow drag as Harry curled back underneath his arm. He watched the younger boy fiddle with the blankets, tugging two over their waists before tracing the ink on Matt’s hip. “There’s…an us, a _we_ if you prefer. Can’t really say there isn’t anymore, yeah?”

Harry nodded, tucking his head under Matt’s chin. “I didn’t—I mean, this wasn’t, like, a plan of mine, yeah? I just…wanted to meet you? I didn’t think it would…turn into this,” he whispered.

“I know,” he admitted, taking another drag, finishing the fag quickly before stubbing it out on the ashtray just to the side of the bed. “Me neither.”

 

+

 

The next day, Harry was papped coming out of Matt’s flat, his curls a mess, his neck marked, wearing Matt’s old Nirvana sweater, smelling like cigarette smoke. He knew it would be all over the internet in less than an hour, knew he would be fielding calls from the lads and his mum and his mates asking—demanding to know what was going on. He just didn’t care. He was happy.


End file.
